


When Yuuri Was...

by aksnowchild



Series: Soulmate AUs [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on ICE
Genre: Angst, Communication, Depression, Fluff, M/M, Soulmate AU, non verbal communication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 14:49:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9077296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aksnowchild/pseuds/aksnowchild
Summary: The Soulmate AU where when you write/draw/paint on yourself it appears on your soulmate's skin.AU where Victor and Yuuri are painters.They had built their relationship up from the foundation that they always had: communication.





	

When Yuuri was five he became aware that the marks he saw on his skin came from his soulmate.

When Yuuri was six he realized the marks were in a different language than the one he knew. His parents bemoaned slightly, knowing this would make it harder for Yuuri to find his soulmate.

When Yuuri was seven he overcame his anxiety about communicating with his soulmate just long enough to scratch out a few words in Japanese onto his arms. His soulmate stopped writing for a while, and Yuuri became worried, but then the silence stopped.

When Yuuri was eight he and his soulmate gave up trying to communicate with words and instead conversed through pictures. When his soulmate was sad, a thunderstorm made it's way across Yuuri's wrists, but he brightened the scene as best he could with flowers and a smiling sun.

When Yuuri was nine, he was bullied for the sunsets that adorned his body and he began to cover his skin.

When Yuuri was ten he stopped communicating with his soulmate, pushed by the bullies to only take refuge in himself.

When Yuuri was eleven his soulmate stopped drawing, stopped trying to reach out to Yuuri.

When Yuuri was twelve he was painting the ocean for a class project and accidentally spilt paint all over himself. Blue covered his face and arms, although the blue on his face was quickly scrubbed off by an unseen force - his soulmate. It was the first contact they had made in over a year.

When Yuuri was thirteen someone asked why his arms were blank, did he not have a soulmate? That night Yuuri drew the skyline of a city across his wrist before he went to bed. When he woke up, a sun had risen above the buildings. With a smile he pressed an embarrassed kiss to the drawing. He and his soulmate slowly began communicating again.

When Yuuri was fourteen he was changing clothes in his room when he noticed a painting appearing across his torso and shoulders. He sat for hours and watched as his soulmate painted a beautiful city covered in snow. But the city looked dead despite its beauty. Yuuri gathered his paints and began adding color to the painting. A red doorway for that shop. A purple dress on that woman. An orange sign for that bakery. For a moment there was no response from his soulmate, but then a figure appeared, standing alone in the middle of the street. It was a beautiful man with waist length silver hair, staring up at Yuuri with a single tear on his face. Yuuri understood: this was his soulmate. So Yuuri painted himself next to the man: his black hair, his glasses, and he erased the tear and put a small smile on his soulmate's face. His soulmate widened the smile and Yuuri felt his heart lift.

When Yuuri was fifteen he learned basic English and his parents encouraged him to try and communicate with his soulmate using the common language. He told them that he and his soulmate communicated perfectly without words. Through their paintings they communicated their emotions perfectly, they helped each other and comforted eachother, they sometimes even had arguments by changing parts of the other's paintings or washing them off. They were fine without being able to write to eachother, maybe better than fine.

When Yuuri was sixteen he gained a new art teacher who became enamored with he and his soulmate's way of communicating. She was the reason he began painting on canvas more, but he never stopped painting on his skin.

When Yuuri was seventeen he entered his paintings in an art show after his teacher encouraged him to. Despite all of his teacher's encouragements and praise, Yuuri did not feel comfortable letting his art be judged. He didn't feel he was good enough, and his paintings had always been so private it felt wrong to share them. In the final hours while they waited for the results, Yuuri pulled out his paints and painted a thunderstorm on right forearm. Soon an adorable dog appeared on Yuuri's left forearm and he found himself smiling through his anxiety. When the results came in, he had won the first place prize.

When Yuuri was eighteen he entered a national art show, competing for a spot for a scholarship to an art school in America. He thought back to that night when he was fourteen, he would never forget that night, that painting of the city that covered his chest. This art show was the best, maybe the only, chance he had of fulfilling his dreams. So he painted that city, with the red door and the purple dress and the orange sign, but he did not paint his soulmate, or himself. That felt too personal. When he was done he looked down at his arms, searching for a sign of his soulmate. A small heart adorned his palm and he blushed.

When Yuuri was nineteen he moved to America, he had started to fulfill his dreams. He hung the painting of the city next to his bed to remind him of his soulmate, and the things that he had accomplished with his soulmate. His roommate Phichit admired the painting, and the art that usually decorated Yuuri's body. He was the first to notice one day when jagged black marks appeared across Yuuri's collarbone. His expression of surprise sent Yuuri running to his bedroom where he kept his paints. He painted a beautiful forest to try and cheer his soulmate up, but flames appeared in the trees and Yuuri felt his heart sink.

When Yuuri was twenty he was the one that did most of the painting, his soulmate hardly ever responded anymore. Yuuri painted sunsets and flowers and oceans and forests and seashells for his soulmate every chance he got. His soulmate kept painting a poodle and that dead beautiful city. For the first time in years, Yuuri and his soulmate weren't communicating with each other.

When Yuuri was twenty one he moved back to Japan, he had finished school early, established himself as an artist, and could now live wherever he wanted. He had stopped painting for his soulmate as much. Now he painted his canvases and pretended it was his skin, back when his soulmate would talk to him. His soulmate painted that city over his entire body one night. Dead and beautiful, with little color. Yuuri went over it with color, trying to communicate with his soulmate once again, but his soulmate covered the colors with black and white.

When Yuuri was twenty two he knew something was wrong with his soulmate. All of the paintings that appeared on his skin emulated sadness and emptiness. Nothing Yuuri did seemed to alter his soulmate's disposition, and without proper communication, Yuuri didn't even really know how to start helping. Yuuri slowly stopped trying to brighten his soulmate's paintings. It wasn't a conscious decision, nor something he wanted to happen, but it did.

When Yuuri was twenty three there were long periods of time where he and his soulmate wouldn't paint on themselves or communicate at all. During one of these times Yuuri was lying nearly naked on his bed, running his fingers over the traces of an icy mountaintop that his soulmate had painted a week earlier. Suddenly a few lines appeared on his left bicep. Yuuri turned his head to watch the picture take shape. What he saw made his heart skip a few beats. It was the outside of Yu-topia Katsuki, his family's business, the way one would see it from the street. That meant that his soulmate was...just outside the building...painting what he saw. Yuuri watched the painting take on more and more details, but his soulmate seemed to hesitate when he got to painting the sign, the Japanese figures foreign and confusing to them. Yuuri picked up his paintbrushes and with shaking hands filled in the characters he knew by heart. A smear appeared next to the painting, as if his soulmate had dropped his paintbrush in shock.  
Yuuri shot out of bed and pulled on a t-shirt and jeans as fast as he could, bursting out onto the balcony and looking down into the street below. There he was. He was different than when he painted himself onto Yuuri's chest all those years ago, his hair was shorter, he looked more tired, but it was still him. He was looking at his arm with the strangest expression on his face.  
With a racing heart and shaking hands Yuuri pulled out his paints and began painting what he saw in front of him onto his arm. The street sprawled across his forearm and he painted the buildings with faded colors. When he glanced at his soulmate he saw that the man was staring at his arm, transfixed.  
And then Yuuri began painting him. He painted him with the brightest most beautiful colors he could. He painted the way his hand clenched by his side. He painted the way the corners of his mouth were turned down slightly. He painted the way he held his paint pallette. He painted the furrow between his eyebrows. He painted the way his hair moved in the slight wind. He kept painting and painting and painting until his soulmate finally moved. His soulmate tore his eyes away from his arm and looked up.  
Yuuri froze, paintbrush in hand, as he met the eyes of his soulmate for the first time. And then his soulmate began walking towards the front door of Yu-topia. And then Yuuri began running as fast as he could downstairs. And then he opened the door to find his soulmate - his beautiful, sad soulmate - waiting for him.  
They stood in silence for a moment, before his soulmate broke the silence, "English?"  
Yuuri nodded, simply taking in his soulmate.  
"I'm Victor. Victor Nikiforov," his soulmate said, his accent rolling smoothly with the words.  
Yuuri flushed slightly, "Katsuki Yuuri," he took a tentative step forward, reaching up to lay a hand on Victor's shoulder, "why did you stop talking to me?"  
Victor averted his eyes quickly, "We never talked, only painted." He was avoiding the question, he knew what Yuuri meant, and Yuuri knew that. Eventually he relented, "I'd lost hope...of ever finding you...of having meaning in my life...I woke up one day and it all seemed so pointless."  
"Victor..." Yuuri let the name roll of his tongue, it was the first time he ever said his soulmate's name, and he like the way it sounded, "Victor, Victor," he smiled, "you have me now."  
Victor let out a small laugh that sounded slightly sorrowful, and they embraced in a tight hug.

When Yuuri was twenty four he and Victor celebrated knowing each other for six months. Over time they had strengthened their relationship and gotten to know each other. They had built their relationship up from the foundation that they always had: communication. And on Yuuri's birthday night when Victor painted a birthday cake with candles and flames on Yuuri's stomach, then proceeded to 'blow out' the flames by licking the paint away, they laughed like it was the happiest time of their lives.  
And it was.

**Author's Note:**

> Please support my writing and give me feedback by leaving a comment!
> 
> You can also by following my tumblrs:
> 
> therussianiceking
> 
> and
> 
> yurionicewritings
> 
> Or my Wattpad account:
> 
> aksnowchild


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